


The Collapse

by audhds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anxiety, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mute Dean Winchester, Muteness, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Sick Dean Winchester, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audhds/pseuds/audhds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knows he has to find Dean. Fast. And when he does, his brother is not a pretty sight. Dean is tied to a chair, beaten and covered in blood from head to toe. One of his eyes is missing, his hands are broken, he cannot walk, and although Sam does not immediately realize it, he is mute. Warning for gore and past torture! I do not own SN. May be triggering!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Collapse

Sam sprinted down the corridor and into the room down the far end, it was the only room they hadn't checked and Sam knew that if Dean wasn't in there, he and Bobby would be back to square one. And he couldn't let that happen. Dean had to be in that room, he just had to be.

They had exorcised five demons, kicked down god knows how many doors and had checked countless rooms for his older brother. And it all came down to this one.

Bobby was a few rooms behind caring for the only survivor of the previous exorcisms, a young woman, leaving Sam the responsibility of finding his brother.

Sam only allowed himself three seconds in which he could catch his breath before he kicked down the last door, hoping and praying to every God out there that Dean was ok, and not too badly hurt.

But it soon became clear that his brother was anything but alright. He was bound to a chair with four lengths of rope, slumped forward and covered in blood. So much blood.

"Oh God, Dean! Dean, hey, Dean, it's me, I've got ya." Sam hurried forward, trying not to gag from the smell of blood, sweat and … well; Sam didn't want to think about anything else. When he was closer, he began to approach more carefully, trying not to startle Dean, who was visibly shaking and withdrawing further into the chair, straining against his ropes to get away from danger.

"Hey Dean, I've got you now, you're safe. C'mon, shhh, it's me, Sammy, your little brother, you're ok, everything is alright now. Let's get you home and patch you up, I have pie in the car. We killed them Dean, drop kicked their demon asses, they can't hurt you any more." Dean didn't respond to this news, keeping his head bowed and continuing to tremble with a mixture of pain, fear and cold. Sam just assumed that he was too frightened to talk. The truth never occurred to him, not for a second.

Sam sighed and tried again. "C'mon, look at me Dean, it's me, see? Just give me a flash of those pearly whites man, please. You're safe, I'm here to get you; Bobby is just outside. He helped me get in here, he's keeping guard." Yet again Dean didn't answer, so Sam gave up and took a few steps closer to his brother. He felt tears burn in his eyes when Dean tried to pull away from him.

And then he took a few steps back, feeling bile rise up in his throat. He knew he should stay strong, by his brother's side, but he couldn't. Before Sam knew it his lanky legs had carried him into the corner of the room, where he vomited up what felt like everything he had consumed in the past week.

Now he knew why Dean wouldn't look up at him. Why he didn't see that Sam was there for him and why he cowered away from his brother in fear. One of his brother's eyes was missing…his right eye had completely disappeared, and all that was left was a bloody socket. And the other…the other was swollen shut and black with bruising.

Oh God Dean, how could a demon do that to you? How could anything do that to you?

Sam felt tears streaming down his face, his brother's beautiful emerald green eyes, the eyes that had always looked out for him, the eyes that could show so much love and tenderness, or pure hatred…how could this have happened? Sam felt sick to his bones, his entire being consumed by grief. But he had to stay strong, all he could do was hope that his brother's other eye was relatively undamaged. The alternative was, well, unthinkable. Dean couldn't be blind, it would destroy him.

Gathering himself, Sam carefully knelt down by his side again. "Sorry Dean, I just…don't worry though, it isn't too bad. We can fix this like we always do, hey. Nothing has beaten us yet. Down but not out, yeah?" Dean gave an almost imperceptible nod, which Sam took as permission to come closer and untie Dean. He started with the ropes around Dean's bare ankles, which didn't seem to be as bloodied as other parts of his flesh. He was as gentle as his huge hands would allow, now having noticed the bruising and rope burns on his brother's pale flesh. When Sam did accidentally knock one of the cuts, Dean didn't so much as whimper. He was catatonic.

Bracing himself, Sam turned to Dean's hands, fighting back a shout of shock and disgust as he did so. Each one of his brother's fingers were clearly broken, all ten, and as if things couldn't get worse, Dean's perfectly manicured fingernails were missing. Dean had always taken such pride in his nails, stating that 'chicks dig clean nails, it's a way of saying hey, look at me, I am domesticated and sexy. You should try it some time Sammy, it might help ya get laid!' Sam had always laughed this off, but now he could see what Dean meant. His nails had been perfect, and now they were gone. But at least they would grow back. 'Always look on the bright side Sammy.' Once again Dean's wise words rang through his head.

Sam was even more careful now, pausing every time his brother breathed in too sharply or strained in the chair. It was taking too long, all Sam wanted to do was get his brother out of this dump as soon as possible, but he couldn't bear to cause Dean any more pain. He had to compromise.

What felt like years later, Dean was fully untied, the ropes around his chest, hands, ankles and neck were gone and he was free to move. But he didn't. Either Dean didn't realise he could move, he couldn't, or he wouldn't.

Sam once again tried to talk to his brother, begging and pleading for him to move, and eventually barking out orders like his dad did, hoping that would provoke a reaction. But it didn't.

Dean didn't seem to hear him, or if he did he did not show that he had heard his brother's voice. If anything his brow seemed to furrow further, his sharp cheekbones seemingly jutting out more, as if they were trying to pierce through his sallow, milk white skin. In a flicker of light, it seemed to Sam that Dean's freckles were specs of blood, where the bone had managed to protrude, only to sink back beneath his brother's flesh.

What a mess.

Sam couldn't believe he had let this happen. He couldn't believe that he had left Dean here long enough for him to get in this state. Four months.

It had been four months since everything went to hell. Four months since Dean had thrown himself in front of his baby brother to protect him. Four months since Sam's older brother had disappeared, seemingly off the face of the Earth.

It had taken four months of sleepless nights, thousands of tears, hundreds of cans of beer, tens of phone calls to every hunter Sam knew, and one night in which he and Bobby had raided the warehouse and found Dean.

But they were 3 months and 29 days too late.

Dean had been broken, but at this point in time, Sam could not comprehend how damaged his brother was.

Because of him.

Because of his stupid mistake.

Because he was not being careful.

Because he had gotten into a position that had forced Dean to jump in front of his little brother and save his life.

And it was clear that Dean had paid the price for Sam's carelessness.

Realising that Dean was not going to move of his own accord, Sam very carefully wrapped an arm around his back, grimacing when he felt warm liquid on his hands. Even Dean's back had not escaped the torture; Sam would have hazarded a guess that it was covered in whip marks, but he didn't stop to look. Dean needed to get out of here.

With the utmost care, Sam cautiously lifted his brother to his feet, supporting him around the waist and helping Dean take a few, shaky steps towards the door. For a few selfish moments Sam wished that Dean would actually take some of his weight whilst walking, but when Dean's legs buckled from weeks of misuse Sam realised just how strong Dean was trying to be. He had supported quite a bit of his weight, which Sam now noted had dropped worryingly low. Sam could feel his ribs and spine and resolved to feed his brother every single slice of pie and burger that he could find.

Sam lifted Dean up and hoisted him over his left shoulder, trying not to knock Dean's face or hands as he headed out of the door and found Bobby, who shook his head solemnly. The girl didn't make it.

Then Bobby saw Dean's blood covered back and swore.

"Balls, what the hell?" Sam shook his head a little. He didn't want to panic Dean or put him under any more stress.

"Right, let's go." Sam readjusted Dean's position and went back the way he came, listening to Bobby's gruff voice muttering reassurances to Dean.

"You're gonna be alright, idjit. Just stay strong for me." Dean remained silent, eventually passing out from the pain of Sam's movements jarring his hands, face and back.

"Bobby, what are we going to do?"

""I dunno kid, we cant care of this ourselves, he has to go to hospital."

"Dean hates hospitals!"

"Dean doesn't have any say in the matter, there is no way we can fix his hands, or back in that state." Then Sam realised. Bobby hadn't noticed Dean's face.

"Uh, Bobby, that's the least of our worries. He's missing an eye."

"What?"

"His eye, its gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone."

"Balls." They elapsed into silence. Neither hunter knew what to say, or do.

This sort of thing didn't exactly come in a hunter's diary, or some ancient book written by an extinct tribe. For once, they had no leads.

Sam cautiously laid Dean in the back of the Impala, on his stomach, and got into the drivers seat, exceeding the speed limit by 20 miles per hour and jumping five red lights. But he didn't care, he had made it to the hospital within half an hour and Dean was now being wheeled through the hospital doors on a gurney, with Sam and Bobby hurrying along behind him.

…

Sam and Bobby sat by Dean's bedside, Bobby with one arm wrapped around the youngest Winchester's shoulders. Although neither of them mentioned it out loud, Sam had spent the past hour silently crying into the sleeve of his charcoal hoodie. Bobby wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the occasional hitch in Sam's breath, or the way he sniffed and let out the occasional strangled whimper.

Bobby leant forward and ruffled Sam's hair, he knew Sam hated him doing that but hey, they both needed the comfort of familiarity right now.

The only times either of them moved was twice when Bobby went to fetch coffee and once when Sam went to the bathroom. Other than that, he refused to leave his brother's side. In fact, he had wiled away over four hours with his head rested gently on Dean's arm. It was one of the few areas relatively unscathed, apart from the patches of bruising that Sam was trying to avoid. Of course, the other option was Dean's front, but Dean was asleep on his stomach to prevent damage to his back.

Apparently it had taken 87 stitches to reassemble the flaps of skin that had been Dean's back. Sam was thankful for the thick bandages that covered the gory sight.

The nurses had told them that Dean had been heavily sedated and was pumped full of drugs to help him manage the pain, but even in his sleep Dean did not appear to be resting. He squirmed weakly and kicked at imaginary enemies, punching not being an option considering the fact that his hands had been strapped and wrapped in bandages following corrective surgery. His fingers would never be the same again, not with tiny metal plates keeping them together. When the nurses informed Sam that this was what had happened to his brother's hands, Sam had visibly paled and Bobby had to practically hold him upright to prevent him from falling to the ground. The last thing Bobby needed was another injured Winchester.

When a nurse came in to check Dean's vitals, she had to practically coax Sam off of his older brother, stating that she couldn't to her job if Dean was inaccessible.

"When will he wake up?"

"Honestly sweetheart, I can’t tell you that, but trust me, your brother seems like a fighter. I'm sure he will come round sooner rather than later. Just let him rest."

"But how long is sooner, as opposed to later? That could mean anything."

"Yes honey, it could be any length of time. Just be patient. Why don't you head home and get some rest, some fresh clothes?"

"I'm not leaving him."

"Son, you're no good to Dean if you're passed out with exhaustion." It was Bobby's turn to try and persuade Sam to rest. He looked exhausted and sickly; his pale complexion giving Dean's a run for its money.

"Fine, I'll sleep. But here, I'm not leaving this room."

"I'll get you a blanket."

Sam was asleep before the nurse returned, much to both her and Bobby's relief.

"They really are close, aren't they?"

"Sure are, I've never seen kids that look out for each other this much. Sam was beside himself when Dean was…missing."

"I can see that, but they are together now. Try to rest too sir, these boys need you to stay strong." Bobby nodded, god was she right. His head was all over the place, he couldn't comprehend that Dean was so broken, would never be able to hunt again…his eye. Bobby groaned and rubbed at his aching forehead, barely acknowledging the nurse who was adjusting one of Dean's many IVs.

Just before she left, the nurse dipped her head respectfully, draping a blanket over Sam's frame, which was contorted into a ball position so that he could fit into the hospital chair. He would have a killer back ache when he woke up, not that it mattered. Everything dulled into significance when Sam considered how much pain his brother must be in.

Sam managed to gain a couple of hours shut eye before he was awoken by the sound of Dean jerking awake next to him.

"Hey, Dean, you with me man? I need you to stay awake. I'm right here, so's Bobby."

"Hello idjit." Bobby expected Dean to smile at the pet name, but Dean just flinched away from his family's voices, trying to get away from the loud noises and raising his heavily bandaged hands to protect his face, which was also covered in white strips of gauze.

"Dean, relax. It's us. Your in hospital, the nurses are taking care of you. And don't worry, she's hot. They've sorted your hands and back out, so try and stay still. You don't want to knock anything. Get some rest." Dean didn't seem to hear him, and Bobby could see that the boy was beginning to hyperventilate from a mixture of fear and stress.

"Back away Sam, I'll get the nurse."

All too soon Dean was lying motionless, Sam crying by his side even harder than before. He didn't know what to do, Dean had completely freaked out despite Sam's best efforts to calm him down.

This whole thing was a mess.

And it didn't help that he had gained a good, close up look of Dean's right eye, which was completely covered with bandages from surgery. Even his left eye had a soft pad taped on to protect it as it swelled and the bruising darkened, rendering Dean completely blind for the moment. Apparently, the eye was not damaged though, and once the swelling went down Dean would be able to open it again. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

…

The next time Dean woke, he was a little calmer, seemingly recognising Sam's voice as he spoke softly to in an attempt to calm him. He even raised one of his bandaged hands a little, reaching out for his younger brother's soft hair.

"Hey, chill out, it's me, I promise. See?" Sam gently bent down, allowing his far too long hair to tickle Dean's skin softly, that and the stubble that had grown on his chin after days of neglect.

Dean gave the ghost of a smile before relaxing his tense muscles, seemingly melting into the soft, white hospital bedding. It was far comfier than that frickin chair.

Dean gave a small shudder and felt tears build up in his good eye, one drop dripping down through a gap in the gauze pad. He would never admit it to anyone, but damn he was scared. He wanted to talk to Sammy, to hug his little brother and cry. He wished he could just let it all out, scream at the top of his lungs and beg Sam to make the pain go away, the ache in his chest, not just the physical pain that coursed through his entire body. He wanted to yell about how unfair his life was, beg for Sam to somehow get his eye back…Dean gagged slightly when he saw the demon inching towards his face with a ten-inch-long blade in its hand, dry heaving as he remembered the pain.

He flinched when Sam rubbed his shoulder.

"Dean? Are you ok man?" Sam waited for the heaving to stop and held a bottle of water to Dean's cracked lips. Then he noticed the single, perfect tear rolling down his brother's cheek and swiped it away tenderly. Dean allowed himself to lean into the touch, flinching in fright when he felt Sam withdraw it a few minutes later.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." Dean didn't relax until Sam's hand was safely back on Dean's shoulder.

"Look, Dean, do you want to talk about this. You can't just bottle it up." Dean shook his head a little before deepening his breathing, hoping that Sam would think he was asleep. Sadly Sam's Stanford brains meant that he wouldn't fall for the oldest trick in the book.

"I know you're not asleep man. You can't bottle this up like some dumb teenage angst. Talk to me." Dean ignored him and Sam eventually gave up, shooting Bobby an exasperated look. This whole Dean not talking thing was beginning to worry him. He never thought he'd say it, but he actually missed Dean's wise crack remarks and lousy sense of humour. Even his insults.

After a few more attempts at conversation, Sam finally gave up.

Dean had fallen asleep and Bobby was giving him a sympathetic smile.

"Don't worry Sam. He's probably just in shock or something, that was a seriously heavy beating your brother went through. He's half blind for god's sake, give him time."

"I'm worried about him. It's unnatural, seeing Dean so quiet; I don't know what to do."

"I do, you need to relax, sleep a bit, eat something other than protein shakes or salad, and most importantly, be patient with him. Give him some time to recover, your brother needs space."

"Space, he totally freaked when I let go of him. He can't see Bobby; he's as clingy as a freakin limpet with attachment issues!"

"Fine, maybe space isn't a great idea, but still. Give him time."

"Yeah." Sam rested his head on Dean's bed, reaching out for his bottle of water from Dean's bedside table and swearing when he knocked it to the ground.

The loud bang caused Dean to wake up; he practically jumped out of his skin and threw up the water Sam had been able to coax into him earlier. But he still didn't make a sound other than a sharp hiss of breath.

If it wasn't for Sam's lightning fast reflexes, both he and Dean would be covered in vomit. Luckily for both of them Sam had been able to grab a bucket and hold it under Dean's chin just in time.

Tremors racked through Dean's body and it took another thirty minutes to coax him into relaxing, and further ten for him to fall asleep.

Sam just hoped that when the gauze was taken off Dean's good eye, he would be less frightened of everything and every one around him.

…

Sam had tried hard to contain his excitement as he drove the Impala, but he couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face. The atmosphere was tense and awkward, but he didn't care. Dean had finally been let out of hospital. Nothing could drag him down.

He, Bobby and Dean had spent the ride back from the hospital listening to Simple Man. When Sam had asked Dean what music he wanted, his brother had just shrugged his shoulders, and considering the choice was between Metallica and Lynyrd Skynyrd, he went for the lesser of two evils.

He had been half expecting Dean to start singing, badly, when the chorus started. He himself even began to sing in order to encourage his brother… "And be a simple, kind of man. Oh be something, you love and understand. Baby be a simple, kind of man…" but Dean did not join in, and Sam soon tapered off into silence as well.

Sam was seriously beginning to worry about this. Dean's behaviours was so un-Dean like, but hopefully when Dean was back in his home territory (a crappy motel), he would relax a bit and be less terrified of his surroundings.

Bobby, who had been translating some Latin spells in the back of the car – a task made difficult by the fact that Dean had accidentally knocked a mug of coffee on the corners of the book by accident, not being able to see it.

When they finally parked up and Sam had opened Dean's car door, Dean had refused to get out of his Impala, pointing at his eyes with a heavily bandaged hand.

"What do you want Dean? Just talk to me." Dean pointed again. Just give me my damn sunglasses Sammy, use your brain and work it out.

"Dean, I don't know what you want!" Sam tried to keep the exasperation out of his tone; he really didn't understand why Dean wouldn't just talk to him. It was driving him crazy. Dean pointed to his eyes again grabbed Sam's attention back, and then it clicked. Sunglasses. Dean was embarrassed that people would see his bandage covered eyes. After all, he did hate to display any sign of weakness.

"Sunglasses?" Dean nodded. He wanted to say something, a snarky comment or a 'no shit, what did years of college teach you?' but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. He sighed, and held still as Sam placed his glasses behind his ears, resting on his nose. He hated being so dependent on Sam, putting so much strain on his little brother, but at the same time he was terrified to let him out of his sight…no, touch.

Finally nodding, Dean clambered out of the car, testing his thin, wobbling legs and taking a few steps once Sam had wrapped an arm around his waist. Sam made sure not to apply any pressure which would hurt Dean’s back.

Sam looked at his brother and sighed softly. He didn't have the heart to comment that the sunglasses didn't even cover up half of the bandages.

What Dean doesn't know can't hurt him.

When Sam had helped Dean out of the car, guided him to the motel with Dean's arm linked around his own and opened the entrance door to the motel, he felt relief sweep over him. It had taken a whole month in hospital before the doctors had said Dean was in a fit state to leave the hospital room. It wasn't just the mess that had been his back, or the multiple surgeries on his eye, or the surgery that had to be done on Dean's left index finger, which had contracted an infection. It was the fact that Dean kept having breakdowns and still refused to talk to anyone, even the hottest nurse in the joint.

Despite Sam's constant litany of encouragement, Dean spent most of his time lying on his stomach asleep, lying on his stomach pretending to be asleep or lying on his stomach staring at the wall. Or at least he would have been if the gauze had been removed.

Sam shook his head to clear his mind and smiled as he approached the receptionist of the motel, who was absentmindedly chewing the end of her pen, which she was holding between two, taloned fingers. Who'd have thought that having long red spikes poking out of your fingers was deemed as fashionable? They looked downright dangerous to Sam. Although Dean liked them, he thought they made women look sexyl and always commented that they complimented the girl's eyes. Of course, at the moment he couldn't see them, and he was clinging on to Sam as if terrified that someone would grab him and separate them. To be fair, it was a very real fear considering that is what had happened to him, and look at how that had ended!

It was scaring him more how Dean was becoming ridiculously clingy. He just would not let Sam go.

"Heya, how can I help ya?" The receptionist beamed, glad that she finally had something to do; namely appreciate the two stunning men who were gracing her with their presence.

"Hey, two rooms please. A single and a twin, next door to each other." At that moment Bobby walked in the room. Lizzy, (the name on the blonde's badge), looked up hopefully, thinking it would be another gorgeous twenty year old. She didn't hide her disappointment well when Bobby entered struggling with five bags. She sighed and began to look at the bookings.

"Sorry love, we don't have any twins, just doubles and singles."

Sam looked at the pitiful contents of his wallet. Having paid for pain meds for Dean, antibiotics, new bandages as well as eye care kits, saline solutions and flushes, he was broke. There was no way he could afford to pay for three singles. 

"Fine, a single and a double for four nights please." Sam half expected Dean to voice a complaint about that being too chick flick, or that he was happy to sleep in the Impala, but he didn't. It was scaring Sam how in his head, he was filling in what the old Dean would say to him. It was like having a conversation with himself, but slightly more creepy.

The receptionist handed them the keys, Sam grabbing them with the arm that wasn't being clung on to by Dean.

At least they had somewhere to stay for four nights.

Sam carefully guided Dean to the room, navigating the stairs with difficulty and nearly pulling them both to the floor once when he missed a step. After that, Dean had moved even more wearily, and Sam could feel him trembling through his baggy leather jacket.

God Dean hated not being able to see where he was going. He felt so helpless.

"We're here Dean. Once we're unpacked do you wanna head out and get something to eat, there was a diner a couple of miles back advertising the world's best hamburgers."

Dean shook his head. He didn't want to go outside and draw attention to himself.

"Why Dean? You can't hide up here forever." Dean opened his mouth to argue otherwise, but all that came out was a rasping sound. Sam looked up from his duffel in concern.

"What's wrong?" Dean gave another shake of his head and stood stock still, feeling tears burning in his good eye. His shoulders began to shake and he sank to the ground, wrapping his bandaged hands around his head, as if that would protect him or hide his tears from Sam.

Of course, it didn't work and Dean flinched as he felt Sam wrapping his gangly arms around him, his hair tickling at Dean's neck. Sam could feel Dean's jerking sobs and shifted so that he could pull Dean into a tighter hug.

"Dean, you can't speak, can you? You can't get the words out?" Dean gave a slight nod and bowed his head. He was weak, a failure.

"Did the demons damage your neck or is it…" Sam knew that if he suggested outright that Dean's problem was psychological he would get punched in the face. Which wouldn't do Dean's hand any favours. He also knew that Dean was becoming increasingly agitated about his voice. He wasn't choosing to be silent, no matter how hard he tried, the words would not come out.

Dean gave him a look that just screamed 'don't go Dr. Phil on me man!’

"Talk to me dude, you want to talk don't you? You are trying but it ain't happening, yeah?"

'Dean gave a small nod again, opening his mouth and then closing it again.

"Don't worry, we'll sort it. I'll read some books, the internet, there is bound to be something that can help." Sam could practically hear Dean's eye roll.

Deciding that for once he could be chick flick; Sam cautiously wrapped his hands around the top of Dean's torso, avoiding the whip marks on his back and Dean's arms completely, allowing Dean to rest his own head on Sam's shoulder in a way that wouldn't hurt him. Sam was surprised when Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and began to sob again into his hoodie.

They stayed like that, curled on the floor with Sam rocking his brother even after Dean had finally ran out of tears. It felt good, Sam being able to actually help in a small way. He knew that a hug wouldn't even scratch the surface, but it seemed to have made both of them feel slightly better.

Sam had no plans of moving anytime soon, but was forced to do so when there was a knock at the door. Sam stood carefully, helping Dean up with him and answered the door, smiling at Bobby when the older hunter walked.

"Hey Bobby."

"Mind if I come in?" Bobby took a look at Dean's tear streaked, red face and shot a questioning look at Sam, who shook his head sadly.

"Sure. You settled in?"

"Yeah, all unpacked"

"Dean, you ok son?" Dean nodded and gave a small smile. It was a shadow of his old cheesy, womanizing grins.

"He's just hungry and tired, aren't you? I'll go get some food. Bobby, can you stay?"

"Sure…" The eldest hunter was cut off by Dean shaking his head violently.

"What is it Dean, do you want to come to?"

Dean shook his head.

"You don't want me to go?"

Dean nodded.

"Fine, Bobby would you mind?"

"You know I'd do anything for you idjits, I hardly think grabbing some burgers is asking too much of me. I'll head out now."

Soon Bobby was at a diner, grabbing Sam a salad and two burgers for himself and Dean.

When he returned both boys were sat on their double bed, Sam leaning over Dean and removing the gauze pad from his good(ish) eye.

"Balls, what the hell are you doin Sam? The docs said to leave it for a whole week."

"Yeah, well it's driving Dean mad, he can't see where he's going. Is it too much for him to ask for a bit of independence?"

"On your heads be it…idjit boys."

Sam continued and soon Dean's bruised eyelid was revealed. Sam stood back a bit as Dean peeled open his eye; it was still slightly bruised but looked much better. At least one thing was well on the mend.

"Better?"

Dean nodded and smiled. Actually smiled. It felt so good to see his younger brother's puppy dog eyes and floppy…what the hell had he done to his hair?! Dean would have sworn that his younger brother's hair grew at the speed of light…or sound if he wasn't going to exaggerate!

Dean nodded towards the offending locks and Sam grinned.

"I like it."

Sam could practically feel Dean's mind mentally chopping off his hair. Maybe a haircut was in order. Anything to please his brother.

However, once he had hand fed Dean his burger, Dean's hands still being out of order, Dean's good mood had evaporated and he was now downing his third beer. Drinking it from a straw. A freakin straw because he couldn't hold the bottle. He drew the line at Sam pouring alcohol down his throat and decided that the pink straw was one compromise he was willing to make.

But he was certainly not happy about it.

He wasn't happy with anything at that point in time.

…

After eating dinner Bobby left Sam and Dean to it, mumbling something about having phone calls to make and now Sam was sitting beside his brother on the bed, thumbing through his book and trying to ignore the fact that his brother stank. 

Dean had just taken three pain meds, which in itself was worrying considering he normally stated that medicine was a way for quacks to rip him off, but his stomach and back had been hurting so bad that he didn't care. Even his head felt like it was being split in two.

Nope, it was too much. A month of sponge baths in a hospital had not done Dean any favours.

"Dude, you wanna shower?" Dean shook his head and tried to crawl back under the covers, wriggling his body in an attempt to try and pull the blankets back over him, a task made difficult by the way he couldn't use his hands.

"Dean, no offence but you really need a shower. You stink. I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you until you smell like roses." It was blunt, but seemed to do the trick as Dean eventually gave up and allowed Sam to wrap an arm around his waist, spinning him so his too-skinny legs dangled off the edge of the bed. He was tired, his head was throbbing and his stomach was hurting like a bitch.

He did not want a shower. He wanted to go to sleep.

Sam half carried, half dragged his exhausted brother to the bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the bath and trying to ignore the way Dean flinched when they lost body contact. It was as if Dean was afraid that Sam would disappear.

"S'okay man, I'm not going anywhere, just relax, I need to wrap up your lamb chops and stomach in plastic so ya don't get your wrapper wet."

You are such a bitch Sammy.

Sam filled in Dean's reply of bitch in his head. Oh how accurate it was!

Once Dean was all wrapped up like a turkey Sam gave Dean the go ahead, helping his brother into the shower and supporting Dean as he struggled to get his footing.

Then, once Dean had gained his balance, Sam made his way to the door, only for Dean to elbow him.

"What the hell? You have a bony-ass elbow dude, c'mon!"

Dean gave a slight shake of his head whilst Sam rubbed his side. Son of a bitch!

"You want me to stay?" Dean gave a slight nod and watched as Sam perched himself on the lid of the toilet.

"This is so chick flick Dean." He could not gauge Dean's response as his older brother was back behind the shower curtain, allowing the warm water to cascade down his bruised skin. 

"You want me to do your hair, considering we're already going for a record of girly moments tonight?" Dean peered out of the shower and shook his head.

"Well, you can't do it yourself, so it's that or having a head greasier than one of your burgers for the next week until your check up."

Dean gave Sam a death glare before nodding, awkwardly scooping up a towel and dumping it on his groin as he sat down. There are some things that your little brother should not see, and his crown jewels were one of them.

Sam laughed a little at Dean's small attempt at privacy. He had just helped him in the shower and had seen Dean naked god knows how many times, it is kind of hard not to when you are living out of duffels in twin motel rooms for months on end.

"And you call me a girl!"

Soon Sam was massaging lime shampoo into his brother's hair, scrubbing until the water ran clear and it was no longer a knotted, tangled mess. By the time he was done Dean's hair was back to its former glory, sleek and spiking up in all the right places. He looked good, better than he since he had gotten himself nabbed by the demons and Sam was very pleased with his accomplishment.

Sam averted his eyes as Dean stumbled out of the tub and pulled on a clean pair of boxers, only looking up when Dean was ready to leave the room.

"You good?" Dean nodded and yawned pointedly.

"Fine. Get your ass in bed, but stay on your side." Oh the bitch face, Sam would have been proud of that one!

Dean fell asleep without realising it, the regular noise of Sam flicking through the pages of his book lulling Dean into a sense of security. But of course, it did not last long.

Dean's peaceful, drug induced oblivion was intercepted by flashes of light being reflected from a glinting metal blade. And then there was pain, unbearable pain followed by a flash of red and yellow light as one of the demons held a flame tauntingly in front of Dean's face. The nerves in Dean's arms and legs were screaming as the tight ropes dug into them, wearing away his skin and burning deep into him until Dean was forced to stop moving.

Then, another demon with jet black hair was leaning over him snarling and twirling another blade between her fingertips. Dean was transfixed by the way her hair seemed to cascade down her face, flowing as she moved towards him, swaying her hips softly. In any other situation Dean would have been highly turned on.

"Just tell me where you and your bratty little brother hid it, and then, then I will let you sleep."

"Shut up you son of a bitch!"

"Mind your tongue, or I might just have to cut it out."

"Hmm, but then you wouldn't get to hear my beautiful voice."

"You think your funny, don't you Dean?"

"I think I'm adorable. Anyway, why that meat suit? Don't you think it's a bit too pretty to have filth trapped inside?"

"And that is the filthy mouth you used to kiss your mother with. Pity, I'm sure she would have been proud." The demons voice cackled with sarcasm.

"Don't you dare talk about my mother you sick freak!"

"You know, you are really beginning to annoy me, Dean. All this name calling could really hurt a girls feelings. Just tell me what I want; where it is, and I will kill you quickly, if not then…you can fill in the blanks."

"Ahh, you wanna kill me, well I'm afraid you'll just have to get in line, bitch."

"Oh please, may I just remind you who is tied up in chains here."

"Well, me, but usually I would save this for the second date, you kinky son of a bitch." Dean gasped in agony as the demon snapped her fingers and threw him to the floor so that she could stand over him, a riding whip in hand.

"Just be careful what you wish for Dean-O, you ask for kinky, you'll get kinky." With that she brought down the riding crop onto Dean's back again and again. The whole time she laughed, watching in glee as Dean arched away from her, bucking and shaking in pure, unadulterated agony.

Dean found himself shrieking in agony, screaming for Sammy and shuddering with broken breaths. But no matter how many times he screamed, Sam did not come for him. 

When the demon finally stopped Dean's back was raw, a mess of blood and dead skin, ligaments exposed where his back had practically been skinned.

"There is no point in screaming kiddo, no one will hear you. In fact, don't bother to speak again, if I hear your whiny voice one more time, I will cut out your tongue with a spoon. I will listen as you choke on your own blood, and then no one will ever have to listen to you again.

Dean whimpered softly but screwed his eyes shut. Even if he had wanted to argue back, he couldn't have. He was paralyzed with fear; it was almost as if the demon had severed his vocal cords with harsh words.

Dean knew he would never be able to speak again without fear of further torture.

"Tell me. Now." Dean shook his head wearily, throwing up all over the floor.

"Oh now that is disgusting. I think you need to wash your mouth out, maybe with some blood."

Dean couldn't hold back the whimper as the demon advanced towards him, poising the tip of her blade a few millimetres from his right eye…

Sam, who had also fallen asleep a couple of hours ago was alerted that Dean was having a nightmare when he felt his older brother arch his back, pushing into Sam and no doubt pulling at his cuts. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and flicked the side lamp on so that he could see what was happening, simultaneously grabbing Dean's knife from under his pillow so no one would get hurt.

Dean was dangerous when woken up or startled, and a half blind, freaking out Dean was pure lethal. Kill first, regret later style.

A close look at Dean's face showed Sam everything he needed to know, his brother was soaked with sweat, his mouth wide open in a silent scream and tears leaking out of his left, good eye.

"Dean, wake up De, c'mon, WAKE UP. It's just a nightmare Dean, snap out of it." Sam gently shook his brother, who jumped, and tried to fumble for his knife with heavily bandaged hands. Even if the knife was there, he would not have been able to grab it.

Then, Dean almost punched Sam in the face, still not having properly woken up.

"Whoa man, it's me, Sam. Jeez, you nearly just took my eye out!"

Then Sam realised the stupidity of what he had said.

"Shit, I'm sorry Dean, I didn't mean, sorry! I was an idiot, please don't-" Sam was cut off when Dean stalked out of bed with his back to Sam, storming over to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him, not caring that he probably woke up half of the motel by doing so.

Shit, shit, shit!

Sam wanted to hurry after Dean, but years of living with him had taught Sam that sometimes his brother just needed space. And at least it was the one time that Dean had allowed Sam out of his sight without freaking out.  
…

Dean sank down so that his knees were flat against his chest, his head bowed over them as he felt a mix of anger and sorrow rush through him.

He knew it was stupid to get angry at Sammy, there was no point whatsoever and all it had done was cause his little brother pain, which he didn't want to do, but it felt good to let out some of his emotions. Without being able to talk and vent his frustrations, this was the next best thing. He would make it up to his brother later.

Dean squeezed his eye shut, cursing every higher being he knew that existed and then the ones that he didn’t believe in as well. What had he done to deserve this? It was like the universe was literally hell-bent on royally screwing him in the ass! Couldn't he even get some freakin peace when he was asleep? Why did everything turn to shit around him?

And then thoughts of the nightmare hit Dean full in the face and he felt himself bursting into tears…not small sniffles, but the type of sobs that wrack your body and hurt your throat.

"Dean, please let me in. I didn't mean it, please. Oh god I feel like such a jerk." Sam could hear Dean sobbing and felt his heart being ripped in two. He had done this.

Sam was surprised when he heard Dean move, allowing him to open the door, which thankfully Dean had not been able to lock.

When he saw his older brother shaking Sam knew what to do. He carefully pulled him closed again and began to sing, softly at first and then becoming louder when Dean didn't punch him.

Soon, he had reached the chorus of Kansas, Carry On Wayward Son.

"There'll be peace when you are done, lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."

Eventually Dean's sobs subsided, leaving him leaning heavily on his brother for support, his legs shaking too violently to hold his body up.

"Bed?" Dean nodded softly and eased into bed, wiping his eyes on his arm before turning to Sam.

His eyes and expression said it all.

I'm sorry for being a bitch, Sammy.

"I'm sorry to Dean, I should have thought."

Dean shook his head before closing his eye, smiling softly when Sam, thinking he was asleep, whispered that everything was going to be ok, and that they would talk about, and sort out Dean's nightmare the next morning.

He also felt Sam wrap an arm around Dean's waist to protect him.

Dean didn't have another nightmare that night.

…

When Sam woke the next morning, at six thirty on the dot, he let out a low groan, cursing the elephant that was clearly residing in the room above his and Dean's. How the hell can people walk that loudly?

On the plus side, Dean, being Dean had managed to sleep the whole way through what sounded like a circus going on upstairs. He was getting some much needed rest, with his mouth was wide open…there was a trail of drool running down his chin and he was twitching softly.

Sam smiled, his brother looked at peace. For once.

Deciding that he would get up and do something useful, Sam swung his ridiculously long legs out of bed and wandered over to his laptop, deciding to do some research on mutism.

And it was useless. Nothing he found was of any use, there weren't exactly many cases of men being attacked and tortured by demons to the extent that they can no longer talk.

Most of what he found was about selective mutism in children, well that wasn't helpful considering Dean was not a child and he wasn't choosing to be mute. It wasn't as if he was deliberately being silent.

Although on the plus side, most of the articles suggested that children grew out of it, so maybe, over time Dean to would learn to talk again…

Sam jumped out of his skin when he heard a loud thud and immediately he feared the worst. And rightfully so, Dean had vanished from his bed and was lying on the floor. Sam approached his brother as quickly as he could, watching as Dean frantically stumbled to his feet, panting wildly before flinging his arms around Sam, burying his head into Sam's neck, breathing in his familiar smell and trying to ignore the pain in his hands when he knocked them.

"Hey, Dean, what happened? What's wrong? Was it another nightmare?" Dean shook his head sadly and looked at Sam, straight into his puppy dog eyes. And then Sam understood. Dean had freaked when he woke up because Sam had been out of his sight, sitting on Dean's right side so that he was out of Dean's good eye line.

"Sorry Dean, I didn't mean to give you a scare." Dean gave a small nod and went into the bathroom to wash, embarrassed by how he had allowed himself to show fear, again.

Nope, from this day forward, he was going to revert back to his usual self. He could see through his good eye now, the bandages around his hands were going to be removed in a few days and he was ready to get back hunting again.

But first, he was going to eat a big ass breakfast consisting of as many pancakes he could digest, with as much apple and cinnamon sauce as he could pile on to them.

Sam smiled at his brother, who had somehow managed to emerge from the bathroom fully dressed, although he didn't miss the fact that Dean was wincing slightly, having no doubt knocked his hands whilst pulling his shirt on or something like that.

"You ready to go?"

Nod.

"Right then."

Sam went over to the motel door and opened it, allowing Dean to walk out and over to Bobby's room, kicking it instead of knocking.

It was clearly an equally effective method as a bleary eyed Bobby answered the door moments later.

"Morning kiddo, ready for breakfast?"

Nod and a cheeky grin as if to say 'I was born ready.'

"Good, because I could eat a Wendigo!"

Rather you than me Bobby!

"I so know what you just thought Dean!"

Dean smirked at this; he had spent way too much time with the older hunter!

Soon the three hunters were sitting down at the table; Dean perched on the seat closest to the door, leaving Sam by the window. Whenever they sat on a four seater table they took up this arrangement. It meant that if some maniac or monster entered the cafe or diner, they would have to get through Dean first before they could hurt his little brother.

There was of course, one issue.

As Dean was still wearing his sunglasses, the waitress failed to notice that Dean was blind on the side where she stood, and as Sam and Bobby had been deep in a loud conversation, Dean had not heard her approach.

This meant that when the waitress tried to hand Dean a menu, he jumped out of his skin and nearly hit her in the stomach.

"Jeez you jerk, what was that for?!" The waitress scowled at Dean, who flushed, realising what he had done.

"I'm so sorry miss…Hailey, my brother didn't see you, he's half blind and you gave him a bit of a shock. He's had a hard time lately and is a bit on edge." Sam beckoned to Dean's hands as Dean went redder than before.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, if I had known I would have been careful not to sneak up on you, um, your drinks are on the house."

"That is very kind of you, thanks." Sam smiled and quickly ordered for himself and Dean, knowing what his older brother would want and allowing Bobby to order his own food…a full fry up.

Dean scowled down at his pancakes when they arrived, stabbing them with his fork with far more violence than was necessary. He didn't have to see the people staring at him; he could feel their eyes burning into him with curiosity after his outburst.

He did however; feel slightly better when he saw Bobby snarl at one man, growling at him "are you always this much of an insensitive prick or are you deliberately trying my patience? I swear if you look at him one more time I will shove your head so hard up your ass that you'll need heavy duty surgery." The man blinked up at them owlishly before placing a twenty dollar bill on the table and leaving.

Dean grinned at the look on the man's face and thought, 'thanks Bobby!'

Sam tried and failed to bite back his laughter, and even Dean let out a small snort of amusement before turning his attention back to his food.

Maybe things were going to get better…

…

Dean strolled out of the hospital with a grin on his face. It was refreshing.

The doctors had x-rayed his hands and decided that his fingers were healing nicely. Although the plates would stay in his fingers forever, they were hopeful that with physiotherapy, he would gain back a high percentage of movement. And therefore, they were happy to take off his bandages.

Of course, Sam and Dean could not pay for this treatment, but Dean was already flexing his fingers little by little in an attempt to strengthen the muscles, which were insanely stiff.

But now, they were heading over to the library to do some research and get a couple of books out on the topic, hopefully that would help.  
…

Dean was in his element.

He was sitting at a table in the library, pretending to read some romance/crime novel, whilst actually eyeing up a beautiful blonde sitting opposite him.

It was definitely a mutual appreciation, as every time Dean looked up, she looked away from him, and every time and every time she looked up, Dean looked away. When they did gain eye contact, they both grinned at each other and soon she was closing her book and beckoning him to follow her outside.

It was an offer Dean could not refuse.

He strode over to Sam and shook him, pointing at the beautiful blonde and giving his brother the thumbs up before heading out.

He needed some fun!

Dean headed out of the library door having seen a flicker of the blonde woman's red dress as she walked outside and he sped up his pace, desperate for some action.

Soon, he was pressing her against the library wall, his lips crashing against hers passionately as they made out, tongues darting into each other's mouths as they both panted for air.

When she pulled back the woman smiled at him brightly, white teeth shining in the sunlight. She leant in and began to press soft kisses along his jaw line, tracing a line up his back with her long nailed fingers and nibbling at his neck.

Dean grinned at her and shucked off his leather jacket, allowing it to drop to the floor as he cupped the woman's face in his hands and leant in to take possession of her mouth again. He gently squeezed her ass and bit her bottom lip teasingly.

She jutted out her chest in response and let out a lust-filled groan.

Her eyes were so beautiful, deep blue like the ocean and accentuated by long, thin black lashes. She was perfect, and Dean was ready to get lost in her.

He didn't even care that he didn't know so much as her name.

He wanted her, and she wanted him.

Dean pulled back from the kiss and looked deep into her eyes again, surprised by her change in expression. She looked almost…smug?

"So then handsome." Dean did not like the way she snarled that out…he didn't like it at all. He tilted his head and tried to take a step back but the woman grabbed his wrist, squeezing hard against the newly healed rope burns.

Dean knew he had to get away.

"I really did miss you Dean-O. And it looks like you missed me too!" She reached down and pressed a hand hard against Dean's crotch.

Realisation hit Dean like a truck. But she couldn't be…Sam said he had exorcised all of the demons…

"I really missed our little chats; we should spend some more time together. Anyways, how do you like my new meat suit?"

Dean tried to scream, but failed dismally, fear creeping up his throat and blocking any sound from coming out.

He couldn't even breathe.

"Let's have some fun."

When Dean tried to move, to fight back, to run, the demon grabbed him by the neck, squeezing with all her might until his vision blurred and black spots began to appear in front of him.

Dean closed his eye, not wanting to watch the demon knocking him out.

It looked as though Sam and Bobby had not been as thorough on their raid as they had thought…

…

Dean came round and stared at the room he had been moved to, wondering how the hell he had been so stupid. Anyone that pretty is sure to be bad news…and her eyes…they were far too perfect. And nothing is perfect, not on Earth or any other place, heaven included.

He cautiously stood, rubbing his tender neck and cursing that damn demon bitch to hell, or wherever the hell she came from, with his mind. If only he had Sam's freaky mind-control, moving cupboard thing…then he'd be able to blast himself out of this hell hole.

Shit…balls…son of a bitch…crap…

Dean swore to himself, trying hard to remain calm but feeling the fear rising up inside him, and the bile which he expelled all over the floor. He felt sick, terror sinking through him as he realised what was going to happen.

That bitch was going to come in here and torture him again, and there was nothing he could do about it. Unless he could get out of there, but as soon as he had realised he wasn't tied to anything, there were no chains or ropes this time, and no damned chairs.

On the one hand he had been initially relieved, but on the other, he now knew that if he had been allowed to walk around the room, there was no way that he would be able to get out. The room was going to be totally sealed, Dean didn't have to look around to work that out, but he would try anyway.

Dean felt tears dripping down his face as he began to tap the walls, groaning in agony as his newly healing fingers ached and spiked with pain in the process. By the time he had felt every wall and had looked at every crack, crevice and corner Dean was in agony, but he didn't care.

He was fully focused on getting out of this mess and back at Sammy's side where he belonged.

SAMMY!

Dean allowed himself to slide to the floor against the wall when he realised the full extent of his situation. He had been separated from Sam at the library and for all he knew his brother could have been captured too. His innocent baby brother could currently be tied to a chair being tortured…or worse, he could already be dead.

Dean curled in on himself and cradled his hands as he tried to think things over, working out different strategies and tactics that he could pull when the demon came to finish him off, which no doubt would be soon, but as soon as the door opened all of that went to hell and Dean watched his plans disintegrate in front of him.

The demon was carrying a knife, the same 10 inch knife as before, the knife she had used to gouge out Dean's right eye. And now she was back to take another piece of him. Dean just hoped it would be quick.

After all the shit he had been through, he thought he at least deserved a swift ending. Maybe a quick slit to the throat like in the movies, but hell, when was he ever that lucky.

"Hey Dean, nice to see that you're up, how are you feeling? Better? Actually wait, don't answer that." Dean looked up and snarled at the demon, clambering to his feet as quickly as he could and puffing out his chest a bit so he looked bigger than he felt. 

"How cute, you really think you can intimidate me, well I must say, it's not working. You do on the other hand, look good enough to eat."

Bite me!

"You are so cute when you scowl. Although, I would prefer it if you took those stupid sunglasses off. Only jerks wear sunglasses inside and besides, they hide your pretty, deep green eye. Oh, that and that I'd like to have a little look at my handiwork, I always have been a hard worker and I take pride in looking back at what I have done."

Do your worst, bitch.

With a flick of her hand Dean's sunglasses sprung from his face and landed with a shatter of glass onto the concrete floor.

Dean flinched in fear.

"Look, I can see that you're afraid, Dean, and I understand, really, I do. I promise, if you co-operate then we can sort this out once and for all…it can all be over quickly, just tell me where the sword is."

Dean scowled angrily at the demon, advancing forward and glaring at her.

"Oh Dean, I would not do that if I were you."

Yeah, well, you're not me, you son of a bitch. You are so gonna pay for this!

Dean lunged, punching the demon in front of him with all of his might, whimpering in agony as pain coursed through his entire arm. The demon stumbled back a few paces, but the moment of victory was short lived as with a flick of her wrist, the demon had Dean pressed up against the wall, completely unable to move. He couldn't even blink his eye, twitch a finger or open his mouth to breathe.

Dean was on the brink of hyperventilating, but he forced himself to remain calm, drawing in long, deep breaths through his nose. The last thing he needed to do was loose his cool.

The demon stepped towards him and raised her blade, catching the collar of his shirt and ripping downwards so that it fell off, revealing his pounding chest.

"So pretty, it is such a pity that I have to do this, but if you won't co-operate then I have no choice." The demon lashed out and cut deep into Dean's chest, causing him to cry out a little, a low rasping sound the only noise he could make.

Get the fuck off of me!

"I thought I'd told you to shut up. You clearly didn't learn your lesson." Dean bit his lip as the blade cut deep into his flesh, the demon dragging the blade from an inch below his anti-possession tattoo, across his chest and down to his abdomen, causing a diagonal trail of red to blossom across his torso.

He didn't so much as whimper.

"Dean, tell me where it is. Then you can die, and I will leave your baby brother alone. You know, I really don't want to hurt him, he's cute. And those puppy dog eyes, it would be such a shame to gouge those out."

NO!

Dean desperately tried to scream, to yell at the bitch to leave his brother alone, to ask her whether she already had him captive, but he couldn't move a muscle.

"Don't worry, I haven't hurt him yet, he is nice and curled up in the Sunnyside motel. He thinks you're safe and sound in bed with a hot chick, at least half of that is true, you are with a hot chick. But, I know where he is, I am tracking his movements and trust me, I could snap his pretty little neck with a click of my fingers. So tell me what I want to know, or I'm going on a little field trip."

The demon inched towards Dean, raising the blade to his left eye.

"Don't think I won't do it Dean. I will cut your other eye out quicker than you can blink, and don't you know it."

When the demon pressed her blade just below Dean's eyebrow and dug the tip in a few millimetres, Dean went pale with terror; his entire body trembled, despite the restraints.

Dean didn't doubt her words for one moment, he knew the demon would cut out his other eye, rendering him completely blind, which is why, for the first time in his life; he fainted from something other than blood loss.

Fear.

The demon exhaled deeply, she always kept her word, but where would the fun be in gouging out Dean's eye if he was unconscious. No, she wanted to hear him scream.

That was one noise that she didn't mind coming out of his mouth.

…

When Dean stirred he found that he was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, his hands shaking violently and his torso still oozing blood.

He barely managed to pull himself into a sitting position before exhaustion caused his head to throb and the room around him to swirl into a grotesque wash of black, grey and red.

Right, think Dean, how the hell are you gonna get your ass out of here?

Dean sat contemplating this, only allowing his mind to wander after three hours of fruitless thinking about escaping.

He couldn't believe that everything had gone so badly, he and Sam had been on a regular round up, well, not exactly regular, hours of research had gone in to it and they had both nearly died in the process of finding it, but they had. They had gained possession of the sword and they had buried it under twelve feet of concrete, and then everything had gone to hell

"Well, all in a day's work hey Sammy, what about we head to the bar and grab a few before we hit the sack, and I aint talking about beers if that's what you're thinking."

"You disgust me Dean." Sam grinned at his older brother. If his mind wasn't on a case, then you could be 99.9% certain that it was on a hot chick…or multiple hot chicks at a time.

"Dude, let's just get some sleep."

"Well aint you a little buzz kill!"

"Whatever jerk, I just have standards."

"Yeah, well so do I! I don't grace any old chick with my presence."

"What about Karli?"

"Ok, that was a low point, but I was off my head!"

"Yeah, no kidding! I mean god De…"

"Don't! Just don't remind me!"

"Remind you about what…the hair or the…"

"Shuddup bitch!"

"In your dreams jerk."

"Well, at least we got it and ditched the damn thing. No one's digging that up. So…I think we deserve to celebrate!"

"Yeah I guess, the last Muramasa sword, I can't quite believe we got it!"

"I know man. That Japanese dude sure knew what he was doing, that sword was awesome."

"Yeah, that's kinda the point of his swords, they were 'great destroyers.'" Sam accentuated this with a bitch face and the most sarcastic tone he could muster, which was pretty damned sarcastic.

"Shuddup geek boy. You're like a walking encyclopaedia of weirdness. I mean damn, I can barely even pronounce the name of the thing!"

"It's not hard, moo-rah-MAH-sah, the one whose swords were imbued with some blood-thirsty spirit."

"Look dude, it makes people murder, turns people against each other, I get that it's a great weapon and can be used against humanity and all that jazz, but I don't need the friggen history lecture. No one realised the legend was true and nabbed it, so we're all good. Just thank your lucky stars that people living the apple-pie lifestyle are too busy mowing their lawns to realise the truth."

That was not the point Sam was getting at. He rolled his eyes; his brother was so pig-headed at times. 

"Dean, it's important. Just think of what could happen if that sword got in the wrong hands!"

"Look, we got it, no one else is gonna get it and I am hungry and ready for some action now. That's all that matters dude."

"You are such a dumbass."

Sam spun around to hit Dean in the shoulder, not looking where he was going and not noticing the woman with long black hair walking out from behind a tree with a knife in her hand.

"SAMMY, LOOK OUT!" 

Dean grabbed hold of his brother and threw him to the floor, not having the time to react before he was hit around the head so hard with the handle of the blade that he crumpled to the ground.

"Dean!"

"M'alright!"

Dean swore as eight other demons appeared out of thin air.

"Sam, run, there's too many!"

"No, we can get them!"

"No way dude, we can't take all these."

"Yes, we can Dean!"

Soon they were fighting, two on nine and all that could be seen were flashes of metal gleaming in the moonlight.

"SAM, BEHIND YOU!" Dean sprinted forward and pushed Sam out of the way of the first knife-wielding demon, the one with black hair, successfully stopping her from impaling his brother like a kebab. 

And that, that was why Dean had his head turned away from the red-headed brute of a man behind him who he had just been fighting.

The red-headed demon lashed out and tore a slash down Dean's back, causing the eldest Winchester to crumple to the floor.

"Agggh! YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Dean!" Sam lunged forward, stabbing the two demons closest to him and his brother before slipping to his knees by Dean's side and grabbing hold of his brother.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. This is my fault, I was being reckless, I…" Sam launched an open bottle of holy water at an approaching demon.

"Shuddup." Dean slid further into Sam's arms, grunting a little.

"Hold on, just hold on," Sam murmured softly, cupping his brother's face in his hand as Dean fought to stop his vision from swaying. His head was killing him. 

Sam waited for a snort or a snarky comment about Dean being too chick flick, a raised eyebrow, hell, even a punch or a murmur of jerk, but he got nothing.

Nothing until…

"SAMMY, RUN!" Dean's sudden shout startled Sam and he looked around wildly for the source of his brother's fear.

And then he found it, over twenty more demons had appeared.

"RUN!"

"I'M NOT LEAVING YOU."

"YES YOU ARE! RUN!"

"DEAN!"

"THAT'S AN ORDER!"

Dean pulled away from Sam and shoved his little brother away, only giving up on the impossible fight when he saw that his brother was running out of harm's way…  
…

Sam woke up on his rock solid motel bed, groaned, rolled over, pulled a pillow over his head, attempted to get back to sleep and eventually gave up. There was no way he was getting back to sleep, he was wide awake and did not possess Dean's ability to sleep through anything or fall asleep instantly…

And talking of Dean…

Sam forced himself to sit up with a yawn, rubbed his neck – cursing the crappy motel pillows and looked over to the twin bed beside his own.

But Dean was not back yet, or at least, his bed hadn't been slept in since house keeping had come the previous morning.

Crap, we were meant to be moving out of this motel today. I am so gonna kick Dean's ass!

Sam went and had a shower, ate a breakfast comprising of two bowls of fruit salad and an apple – enjoying the fact that he could eat something healthy without being called a health freak or a sissy in front of Dean, and backed up both of their possessions.

And then he plonked himself on his bed, he had until twelve to get out of the place and it was only half nine, so he grabbed his laptop and decided to enjoy some alone time. If Dean was allowed fun with a girl, he deserved some fun too.

But after another hour Sam was beginning to wonder what was going on. Dean never usually returned late from nights out with random girls, he usually slipped away in the middle of the night, no doubt leaving the girl wondering what she had done wrong, or he was back before breakfast having stated that he had an important meeting as a CEO, or was due in an important court case or doing something important in whatever profession he had made up the night before.

Something didn't seem right about Dean not being back yet.

Sam grabbed his phone out of his duffle and called Dean, grimacing when it rang ten times without being picked up.

He hung up and tried again a minute later.

"Hello, this is the Dean hotline, if I'm out, chances are I'm frisking women, so don't call again for a while!" Sam laughed a little, god he loved his brother.

After another three attempts Sam waited a while before trying again, but to no avail, so he rang Dean's other phone. He knew Dean couldn't talk to him, but if he at least picked up or realised that Sam was trying to contact him he would text back and let Sam know he was ok.

"Hello, this is Dean's other phone…leave a message."

Right, phone number three it is.

"Hi, this is my other, other phone, you know what to do."

Phone four…

"Sam, only you know this number…piss off man, just cos I'm with a hot chick doesn't mean you can cock block me…but seriously, you know what to do if it's important."

Phone five…

"The number you have called is switched off."

"SHIT!"

That was it, something was wrong.

Sam quit pacing around the room, threw open the door and pounded on the door next to his room with all his might.

"Bobby!"

"BOBBY!"

The door opened to reveal a highly pissed off Bobby.

"What, what? Jesus, what's your problem? I was in the middle off…"

"Bobby, it's Dean, he isn't back yet."

"And? Didn't he go off with some girl?"

"Yeah, but…"

"He's probably enjoying some hot morning sex, relax. This is your brother we're talking about, you know more about his sex life than I do, and he isn't exactly Mr. Innocent. Relax; I'm sure your brother is fine."

"I can't relax. Something's wrong. He'd have called me if he knew he was going to be late back, and he isn't answering his phones. Any of them. This isn't like him."

"Sam, chill out!"

"NO, I will not chill out, I just have this feeling, there is something really wrong here Bobby, and we need to find him. Now!"

"Fine, we'll go back to the library and see if we can find anything."

"There won't be anything there, demons cover their tracks."

"Look, it's the only lead we've got."

"Ok, ok. Let's go." Sam hurried out the motel room, ignoring Bobby's mutter of idjit.

When they finally pulled up at the library in Dean's Impala – yet another warning sign considering Dean would never willingly leave his baby behind –Sam leapt out of the car and immediately sprung on the first person he saw. The pregnant lady looked more than alarmed when he gesticulated wildly and asked whether she had seen a man in a leather jacket and ripped jeans. When the woman said no, Sam sprinted away to a business man, leaving Bobby to apologize to the poor woman who had been scared out of her wits.

"I'm so sorry about that, his brother has gone missing and he was in a serious accident recently."

"Oh, right, I hope that you find him." The woman turned and walked away, shuffling as quickly as she could and wondering what the hell had become of the world.

"BOBBY!"

"YEAH?" Bobby ran as fast as he could after Sam, who was at the reception desk of the library, having just spoken to a rather flustered looking librarian who was desperately pleading with him to be quiet in the 'silent zone.'

"He's not here Bobby, he's gone." And with that, Sam seemed to deflate, burying his head in his hands and using what little resilience he had left to hold back a sob of fear and frustration.

"Ok, ok." Bobby, who was highly aware of the fact that they were being stared at by a bunch of angry students, young mums and four year olds, carefully wrapped an arm around Sam, gave an apologetic nod to everyone in the vicinity and led Sam outside.

Sam allowed himself to be led, leaning heavily against a wall with tears streaming down his face.

"Come on son, don't cry." Bobby spoke gruffly, pulling Sam into his arms and grasping him tightly as the younger hunter sank heavily against him. After a couple of claps to the back, Bobby pulled away and ruffled Sam's hair affectionately.

"Chin up, we'll find him."

"But what if we find him too late?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it."

Bobby swore when Sam fell to the floor, thinking that the boy had collapsed or something, and then he saw it.

Dean's leather jacket was crumpled in a heap on the floor and Sam had dropped to pick it up and cradle it in his arms.

"Oh God…Bobby, there's blood." Sam buried his head in the material and breathed in Dean's familiar scent, aftershave and car fumes. But he couldn't blur out the underlying scent of copper.

"Balls."

"I don't know what to do Bobby. I-I can't…I don't understand, I thought we exorcized them all. I don't get how…"

"Right back at ya."

"What do we do?"

"Relax Sammy, we'll treat it like any other hunt, hunt the demon down."

"This isn't just any old hunt; this is my brother we're talking about. Oh god, this is all my fault, I should have stopped him from going with that bitch! None of this should have happened, if I had just listened to him the night we got rid of that sword, he said there were too many of them for us to fight and I ignored him! I am meant to be taking care at him, he's already hurt, his hands and back…he's already in so much pain…his eye Bobby! He can only half see, how is he meant to defend himself if he doesn't have any weapons, can't see properly and can barely use his hands?!"

"It was not your fault, don't worry, we'll find him. This is Dean we're talking about, he'll pull through. He's a tough lad, he'll stick it out.

"How…"

"I don't know, but first things first, let's call Ash, ask if there's been any recent demon activity showing up on his alarms.

"Ok." Sam tossed his phone to Bobby before punching the wall with all his might, hissing and clutching it to his stomach in pain.

"Better?"

"No, not really."

"Come on ya idjit, lets go find your brother."

Bobby dialed the Roadhouse and waited, sighing relief when a familiar voice answered the phone.

"Oh Ellen, thank God."

"Howdy Bobby, didn't think you went for all the God stuff?"

"I'm making an exception, we need all the help we can get at the moment, and some divine intervention would be much appreciated right now."

"Bobby, what's wrong?"

"It's Dean, he's missing."

"C'mon, Dean's a big boy, he'll be fine."

"Ellen, he's half blind, his hands are broken and his back was torn to shreds a while back. He's not fine."

"Shit, looks like I missed the newsletter! What happened? Half blind?"

"One of his eyes was ripped out."

"Shit, how?"

"Demons. Look, can I talk to Ash?"

"Sure hon, keep me informed."

"Course."

…

"Bobby, Ellen said…"

"Yeah, can you check for any spikes of demon mojo on that contraption of yours?"

"Sure thing. Give me seven minutes, 30 seconds and a pint of beer next time your down here."

"Thanks Ash."

Bobby hung up the phone. All he could do now was wait.

And then the phone rang.

"Hey, there was a peak about at a library near your current location, and another about one hundred miles away in the middle of nowhere. Some field by the looks of things. That mean anything to you?"

"Hmmm, maybe."

"There were quite a few in the area recently, it could just be coincidence."

"I believe in a lot of things and coincidence aint one of them, we're gonna check it out. Thanks Ash."

"Anytime."

Ash sat back on the pool table, grabbed his beer, took a swig and ran a hand through his mullet. He was sure Dean would turn up soon, he always did.

…

Dean was roughly woken from his stupor by a harsh kick to the ribs which sent him crashing to the floor.

"Morning sweetheart, for a moment I thought you were gonna sleep all through the fun stuff."

Dean scrambled to his feet, only to be pinned to the wall by some invisible force.

"I want that sword Dean, think, is it really worth your life to hide it, or should you just do what's best for everyone and give it to me? I get my sword, you get to die fast and your little brother gets to live his life in peace. He can have a normal life, a nice cottage with a wooden fence, a lawn, a rose trellis, and a wife…maybe even kids. He could have a normal job; finish his training as a lawyer. That's what you want, isn't it? For your little brother to be happy."

Dean snarled at the demon, earning himself a small laugh and a deep slash across his cheek.

"Don't try my patience Dean. I'm getting bored of this. Where is the sword?"

"SPEAK!"

Dean shook his head frantically, raising a hand to his throat when he felt the demon mojo loosen its grip.

"What, you can't speak? Is that it?" The demon grinned down at Dean and gently cupped his face, thumbing his cheek and caressing his jaw before planting a gentle kiss on his lips. Dean struggled as hard as he could to bite her lip, but couldn't move his teeth right. It looked as if she had expected that tactic.

"You poor little thing, I did a better job on you than I thought." With a snap of her fingers a notepad appeared, and a biro.

"But no matter, write down where it is. Now."

Dean shook his head and snarled at the demon, which earnt himself yet another hard kick to his ribs and two to his back, causing agony to shoot through him as some of the deepest cuts ripped wide open again.

"Aghhhhhhn" Dean let out a low wheeze of pain, more of an exhale of breath than an actual sound.

Dean took the pad and pen and with a shaking hand managed to write down something which he knew he would regret.

But it was his only choice.

He resigned himself to the worst when he ripped out the slip of paper and handed it to the demon.

'Go to hell, Bitch.'

…

Sam and Bobby sat in silence in the Impala, the drive was taking forever and it seemed like someone up there was laughing their head off and deliberately herding every single car in the vicinity, onto the roads Bobby was driving down. Well, that's what it felt like to Sam, who was sitting shotgun and looking rather miserable about it, well, he had been until he fell asleep.

Of course, there had been an argument about this, Sam insisting that Dean would kick his ass if he let Bobby drive, but Bobby had insisted that Sam was in no fit state to drive. For one he was shaking violently, and for another he was so tense that the air around him seemed to crackle with electricity and anger.

But now that Sam had managed to work himself into such a frenzy that he was beyond exhaustion and slowly drifted off, his head lolling around and bobbing with every movement of the car, there was a peaceful silence.

Bobby couldn't help but notice that his mouth was wide open, and he wanted to slap Sam to stop him from snoring, but he decided to suck it up and deal with it.

Sam was going through enough crap.

Bobby glanced back down at the map on his lap and re-checked the co-ordinates. They were close now, and Bobby wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried.

When they finally reached their destination, Bobby shook Sam awake, narrowly avoiding the fist that came flying his way.

"Balls…Sam, you idjit, it's me."

"Sorry Bobby."

"We're here."

"No kidding, so much for this being some empty field, huh."

Bobby had to agree that the younger hunter was right, for better or for worse there was an old brick farmhouse residing in one of the fields. By the looks of it, the place hadn't been inhabited in years, the windows were smashed, there were no lights, one of the walls had half crumpled away and three quarters of the roof was missing.

It looked abandoned.

But, Sam never judged anything by looks.

He was convinced that Dean was in that building.

He had to be.

The alternative was not worth thinking about.

Sam flung open the door in a fashion which would have usually have earnt him a punch from Dean. Hell, for all he knew he'd done irreparable damage to the door hinges, but he didn't care. He didn't care one bit. He just had to find his older brother before it was too late.

And with that last thought, Sam began to run.

"SAM, WAIT!" Bobby yelled after him.

"SAM, DON'T BE STUPID, WE NEED TO THINK THIS THROUGH!"

"I'M DONE THINKING BOBBY, ALL I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO DO ALL DAY IS THINK, WE NEED TO DO SOMETHING. TAKE ACTION, I CAN'T WAIT AROUND ANY LONGER WHEN DEAN…WE DON'T KNOW WHAT'S EVEN HAPPENING TO HIM RIGHT NOW. FOR ALL WE KNOW HE COULD BE DEAD, HURT...THAT DEMON COULD BE BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF HIM RIGHT NOW, AND YOU WANT TO THINK IT THROUGH!" Bobby hurried to close the gap between himself and the younger hunter.

"Be reasonable Sam. I just meant that we don't know how many of them are in there."

"I don't care how many, you can stay here, but for once it is my turn to save Dean's ass."

"I'm not letting you go in there alone you idjit. We need a plan."

"I have a plan, I'm gonna go in there, find that demon, stab it – multiple times, and then I'm gonna get Dean out of there and fix him up as best as I can."

"That is an awful plan Sam, what if there are loads of them in there, what if they have Dean at ransom…if we just storm in there we could put your brother in even more danger."

"I have to do something." Sam's voice broke halfway through the sentence, as did Bobby's heart. He hated seeing Sam so troubled.

"C'mon then, but if we get killed in there I will kick your ass in heaven, or hell, or whatever."

"Deal."

Sam cocked his gun and held it in front of him as he began to walk over to the farmhouse, followed closely by Bobby, who was packing a knife in one hand and a gun in the other.

Who said men couldn't multi-task.

Sam crept through one of the broken windows, the door having pretty much rotted away.

When he saw that the coast was clear, he nodded to Bobby, who hauled himself up through the window, landing with a thud on the other side.

"Well this aint at all buckets of creepy."

"Very quaint. I'll take those rooms, you the other three, ok?"

"Sure, just don't go and get killed on me. I aint dragging your ass outta that window for ya."

Sam didn't even smile.

He began his search of the first room, which was empty, and then the second, which was empty, and then the third, which apart from some old farming equipment, was empty.

He met Bobby back out in the hotel room.

"You got anything?"

"Not a nickel. You?"

"Nope, nada. We must be missing something. He has to be here. He just has to be."

Bobby could hear the rising panic and desperation in Sam's voice and knew that if they didn't find Dean soon, the kid would freak.

"Are you sure there's nowhere else, Bobby?"

"Only the foundations of the house."

"I was joking Sam."

"I wasn't. Dean could be anywhere, and I aint leaving this dump until I have searched the entire place with a fine tooth comb."

"Fine, it's worth a try."

Sam went back into the third room and grabbed a couple of shovels out of the pile of farming equipment and soon they were digging under the foundations of the farmhouse, in the gap between the building and the earth below.

"Bobby, do you see that?"

"All I can see is mud, dirt and more damn mud!"

"No, look, there…is that a trap door?"

"Seriously, those things exist?"

"I thought you claimed to have seen it all, Bobby."

"Hmmm, maybe not everything. It's worth a try. I guess."

Once the gap was big enough for Bobby's frame to fit through, Sam got onto his belly and crawled under the building, ignoring the collection of dirt under his nails…which Dean would freak at. Bobby followed close behind him, grumbling all the way about being too old for this job.

But it was all a façade; it was his failed attempt to keep the panic from rising.

He really hoped they would find Dean beyond the trap door, but at the same time he was terrified at the prospect of Dean already being dead or badly injured…again…or in an irreparable state mentally.

Sam undid the latch on the trap door and swung it open, climbing down the ladder with his gun pointing downwards.

It was now or never.

…

Dean gagged and retched when the demon's stiletto clad foot pounded into his flat stomach again and again. At first he had tried to defend himself with his arms, but with one particularly hard kick packed with demon mojo, his left arm had been broken clean in two, the bone poking out of his skin and he was now cradling it with his right arm, leaving his chest and stomach unprotected.

"This is what happens when you defy me, boy. I want your chiseled head on a pike, but first I am going to peel the meat from your pretty, pretty face. Such a handsome boy, but you wont be by the time I am done with you. I will leave you with a face that only a mother could love. Oh, I forgot, your Mummy dearest is dead…no matter. You will not be alive long enough for anyone to see you again anyway."

She stepped forward and hauled Dean up by his hair, pushing him up against the wall before kissing and biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"I am having so much fun, aren't you?"

Dean wanted to scream at her, tell her to bite him, hit him with her best shot and just get it over and done with, but all that was coming out of his throat was a mixture of blood, spit and bile.

The demon raised her knife and pressed it into his skin, right where his heart was pumping and Dean closed his eye. This was it, the demon had had enough of the interrogation, she was going to kill him and probably find the sword another way.

But the pain in his chest stopped suddenly and the knife clattered to the ground.

Dean opened his eye and blinked, surprised when he saw the Demon's face screw up as if in concentration.

"Oh, it looks like the fun has only just started."

Dean shot her a confused look.

"It looks like your brother is here to say his piece. Maybe I'll leave you and his fat buddy to have a chat with you before I kill all three of you. Does that sound nice, a little family reunion before all of this ends?"

NOT SAMMY! PLEASE NOT SAMMY.

Dean barely managed to keep standing now that the demon had relinquished her grip on him and was no longer holding him against the wall, but he didn't want to fall to the ground. He didn't want to appear weaker than he was.

But he couldn't stop the trembling.

Dean hoped with all of his might that the bitch was lying, but when she disappeared into thin air and he heard a loud bang against the door, Dean knew that she had been telling the truth.

He remembered a past conversation with Joe.

"Do demons ever tell the truth?"

"Sometimes, especially if they know it will mess with your head."

He sighed, the truth hurts. That was something his Dad had said when he had first explained to Dean about the monsters in his closet. If only John were here now.

Dean flinched when he heard a gunshot, feeling his legs give way as his nerves were pushed over the edge and his legs turned into jelly as the door swung open, the lock having been blasted to smithereens.

He caught a glimpse of two sasquatch feet coming towards him and knew who they belonged to. No-one else had feet that big.

It was his little brother.

And now they were both going to die at the hands of that bitch.

"DEAN!" Sam flung himself at his brother, crying in relief and running a shaking hand over his brother's bloody face and burying his head in Dean's neck for a moment.

"Are you alright Dean?"

Dean flinched away as pain jostled through him, which Sam noticed, pulling away immediately when he realised he was hurting his brother.

"Shit, your arm what…oh god Dean, your stomach and chest, shit, that must hurt like a bitch. But you're gonna be ok, yeah…you're fine now."

Yeah, I'm peachy. I've just been used as a demon's damn chew toy, I feel like a Michael Jackson Thriller reject and my arm hurts like a bitch. I'm friggin' fantastic.

He let go of his broken arm and reached for the biro and notepad, which he had dropped hours before. He then began to scribble for his brother's life.

Get out!. RUN. She knows u here. Gonna kill u. GO.

Sam shook his head and lifted Dean up, cradling his brother in his arms and nodding over to Bobby, who smiled – in relief?

Sam did a double take.

Bobby's smile was far too sinister for his liking.

And his eyes were black…

"Bobby?"

"Guess again, sweetheart. Hmm, I can't say I like this meatsuit much, it's too roomy."

"Get out of him right now you bitch!"

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm having fun in here. It's all cosy like, listening to him banging away inside, bumbling away in an attempt to get out…well, it aint happening."

"I'm warning you."

"Oh come on Flopsy, what are you going to do about it? Kill me? Need I remind you that you will damage your friend here, but then again, be my guest. Kill him; kill me, if that is what you truly want. Go on, do it. If you've got the guts."

The demon took a step forwards, opening Bobby's arms wide as if inviting Sam to hug him…or stab him straight in the chest.

"BOBBY! I know you're in there! C'mon man, fight it!"

The demon grinned manically, snorting with derisive laughter.

"Oh c'mon. You don't really think that he is strong enough to fight me? How quaint."

Dean, who was still in Sam's arms, raised his hand – the one that wasn't on the end of a broken arm – and began to scramble at Sam's jacket, tugging at the fabric and letting out a low, broken grasp of pain. Sam looked at Dean briefly, seeing that he had lost what little colour was left in his face after all of the torture, pain, blood loss and fear. His broken arm was dangling limply over his bleeding stomach and he looked about ready to pass out.

"S'okay Dean." Sam looked at the demon, making sure he-she-it wasn't going to attack within the next few seconds before setting Dean down on the floor, just in front of him so that he could protect his older brother and keep him in eyesight.

"Well aren't you two the cutest, but there is no point making sure he's comfortable. Tell me where the sword is, Sammy, and I will snap your necks. If you don't, then…" The demon drew out Bobby's knife from his pocket and began to play with it, upturning Bobby's lips into a snarl.

"I don't think so, you son of a bitch. No-one hurts my big brother and gets away with it."

"Really?"

With a flick of Bobby's wrist, Sam was thrown back against the wall, his head hitting concrete with a sickening thud, making his head spin and his vision lurch.

"G-get out of him. Leave him alone!"

"I will, if you tell me where it is."

"No chance."

Dean took advantage of Sam talking to the demon and tackled Bobby's body to the floor, sending them both down with a crash. Dean growled with pain but smiled. He had been able to buy Sam some time.

But it didn't do any good; all that happened was that he had pissed off the demon further, like poking a stick at a bear.

Bobby's massive hands grabbed Dean, pulled him upwards and threw him back to the ground, kicking him with a steel-toed boot and causing Dean to double over and flair, gasping for breath.

The demon smirked and walked over to Sam, walking over Dean's prone figure and making sure that it stepped hard on Dean's broken arm, which was sprawled out on the floor.

An inhuman howl escaped Dean's throat before he promptly fell limp, unconscious.

"YOU BITCH!"

"Mind your mouth when you talk to your elders. You’re almost as mouthy as your brother used to be…but I fixed him up well, and now I will sort your filthy tongue out as well."

Bobby's face was now inches away from Sam's, they were so close that Sam could feel Bobby's whisky scented breath and see deep into the dark abysses which used to house Bobby's kind, crinkled eyes.

The demon lifted the knife and began making a slow incision along Sam's jaw line.

That did it.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."

"Ooooh, that tickles a bit. You really think that is going to work on me? Me?"

"Yeah, yeah I do."

Sam snarled at the demon, advancing forwards a few steps before continuing.

"Ergo, draco maledicte."

The demon let out a hiss, grimacing slightly before smiling widely.

"Your attitude is really beginning to hurt my feelings, all this Latin mumbo-jumbo, I mean please... It's insulting. But that's your choice. All of this is your choice. You could make the choice to save your brother-tell me where the sword is. But…feel free to send me back to hell, it looks like your brother is going to follow me soon. He's in a bad way. I can see it, he's going to die Sammy and there's nothing you can do about it. And when I get to hell, I promise to pay your darling brother here a visit. As I peel the flesh from his bones and deep fry him, I will be sure to send him your regards. Do you have any last  
messages? I'll pass them on before I pick him apart like a Buffalo wing."

"Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire…"

"STOP IT!"

"…te rogamus, audi nos." Sam finished the exorcism with a satisfied smile, exhaling a breath that he hadn't realised he was holding as his body fell to the floor, a swarm of black vapour swirling around his head as Bobby screamed.

Adios, bitch.

Sam scrambled to his feet, hobbling past Bobby and over to his brother. He knew that the eldest hunter would be alright, he wasn't hurt physically in any way.

"Dean…DEAN! Wake up man."

Sam pulled off his shirt and began to tear it into shreds, tying them together to create a makeshift sling and securing it over his brother's shoulder. He then sat Dean up against his own body and cradled him, holding another cloth to the deepest part of the diagonal gash covering his torso.

Sam barely batted an eyelid when he felt Bobby place a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry son; I tried to fight it, but…"

"I know Bobby. Just help me get Dean out of here."

"Those things I said…"

"You didn't say anything. The demon did."

"Yeah, the demon did, with my damned mouth. How is he anyway?"

"He's still unconscious."

"Balls. Should we take him to hospital?"

"I guess we have to…his arm's in pieces. I can't fix that."

"Damn." Bobby settled down next to the boys and cautiously looked beyond the sling.

Sam was right, his arm was in pieces. Two pieces, it had been snapped in half and Bobby knew that the lad must have been in excruciating pain. It was a wonder that he had been able to knock the demon earlier, but after all, he was a strong kid.

Bobby ran a hand through Dean's hair before rising.

"What about you Sam, are you ok, did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine. The demon did not hurt me." Sam emphasised the word demon to make it clear to Bobby that he didn't blame the older hunter for any of this.

"Hmmm."

"We need to go."

Bobby nodded gruffly, helping Sam stand without sending Dean cascading to the floor.

He offered to carry Dean, but Sam shook his head with determination and lifted his older brother into his arms, hugging him flush against his own body and kissing Dean's limp head. What Dean didn't know, couldn't hurt him.

Sam couldn't help but worry how skinny his brother had become since the first kidnapping. He knew that Dean hadn't eaten much, refusing to let Sam hand feed him half of the time when his hands were bandaged up, but now…Sam could see Dean's ribs poking out against his skin…could see his chest heaving with the effort of pumping blood and air around his body.

It was almost too much to bear.

Bobby opened the door to the Impala for the boys and helped Sam lay Dean down along the backseat, before Sam sat down in the back and lifted Dean's head onto his lap, securing him in place. He then gingerly re-adjusted Dean's makeshift sling and placing more pressure on the wounds across his chest and stomach.

Bobby slid into the front seat and began to drive slowly, swerving to avoid potholes in the road so that he didn't jostle Dean about too much.

"What's our cover story?"

"Uh…" Sam's mind was black, completely empty. He hadn't even thought about how he was going to explain away a gash across Dean's torso, a snapped arm, extensive bruising and all of the deep lacerations that covered his entire body. Oh, that and the fact that his fingernails were still missing and that Dean was still unable to talk…well, Sam assumed that he was…although he had screamed.

Well, it was a kind of improvement.

"Right, we were renovating an old barn and he fell through some rotten floorboards." Bobby decided to take charge; Sam was in no fit state to put those Stanford brains to use and they needed a half-believable plan.

"Ok. What about names?"

"Bobby reached over into the Impala's storage box and pulled out a handful of fake IDs, chucking them behind him to Sam, who rifled through them."

"Perfect, Axl and Rob…Professional plumbers, builders and electricians. We are also happy to help with your boiler and heating issues."

"Guns n Roses? Really?"

"Yeah, Dean got them made up."

"Figures. Well, at least that fits with our story."

"Just in time…"

Bobby pulled into the hospital car park and opened the door by Dean's feet so that Sam could come around the Impala and scoop his brother up into his arms.

They burst through the hospital door and over to the reception, Sam panting with exertion.

"Please, we need help."

"Alrighty sir, please relax, may I take down your name?"

"Yeah, I'm Axl, this is Rob…look, he fell through some rotten floorboards and he's in a bad way. Please."

"Ok sir, please take a seat. The nurses will bring over a gurney."

In a sudden flurry of activity Dean was lifted from Sam's arms and onto a gurney.

"Wait…where are you taking him? WHAT'S GOING ON? HEY!"

"Sam, relax. He's in good hands; they'll take care of him."

"BUT…"

"Sir, I'm afraid if you carry on yelling I will have to call security. A doctor will be with you shortly to explain what's going on?"

"WHAT'S GOING ON…I'LL TELL YOU WHATS GOING ON...MY BR-BUISNESS PARTNER HAS FALLEN THROGH A FREAKIN ROOF AND NO ONE IS TELLING ME WHAT'S GOING ON! I WANT ANSWERS!"

"SIR!"

Sam sank back into the chair lick a kicked puppy, his eyes were wide and brimming with tears, but he struggled to keep them from falling. Dean needed him to be strong.

It was another ten minutes of silence before a consultant came over to the hunters.

"Axl?"

"What-oh, yeah, that's me."

"You can relax; your friend is in a stable condition. His vitals are weak and he is heavily sedated, but he's going into theatre round about now to have his arm fixed and some of the deepest cuts need to be sutured...oh and we took some x-rays of his hands and one of the plates has shifted in his left index finger…but we can sort that out in a jiffy."

"So he'll be ok?"

"We are hopeful that he will make a full recovery."

"Oh, thank god."

Sam sank lower into his chair and looked at Bobby, who surreptitiously took a few sips of whiskey from his hip flask before handing it over to Sam…he was way too far over the edge and looked like he was about to have a breakdown.

He defiantly needed something to calm his nerves.

"See Sam, what did I tell you? He's gonna be alright."

"Yeah…physically. What about the talking, or his eye?"

"He'll pull through."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

With that Sam curled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees, promptly falling asleep sending an empty paper cup of coffee tumbling to the floor.

…

Sam let out a low groan as he was shaken awake by a set of strong hands.

"Dean?"

"Nah, it's me kiddo. You're brother is out of surgery, he should be waking up round about now and the nurses say it would be good if you are there when he re-joins the land of the living." Sam blinked blearily until Bobby's figure came into focus.

"Oh, uh, right, good, where is he?"

"Down that corridor, apparently we can't miss it, but if you ask me this place is like a damned rabbit warren."

"Ok."

Sam sat up straight with a grunt and pulled himself into a standing position, wobbling precariously before heading in the direction Bobby had pointed to.

His legs moved without his brain's permission, striding in long paces despite the fact that he didn't feel ready to face what was left of Dean after the attacks.

But deep down Sam knew that he had to walk in that room with his head held high to look after his older brother when he woke up.

When Sam entered Dean's room he had to hold back a choked sob.

His brother, his strong, indestructible brother was lying on his side on stark white sheets which he practically blended into. He was so pale, he looked ill, dead almost, apart from the tell tale rising and falling of his chest. His arm was wrapped in a thick cast and his re-broken finger was wrapped up in bandages again – attacking the demon hadn't done him many favours.

"Oh Dean, what did that bitch do to you?" Sam approached his sleeping brother quietly, making sure that he didn't wake him. He sat down next by Dean's side and took his un-bandaged hand, passing the warmth from his own hands into Dean's freezing cold one. Despite the three blankets his brother was cocooned in, he still had goose-bumps and was shivering softly in his drug induced sleep.

"He awake now?" Bobby sank into the visitor's chair on the other side of Dean's bed.

"Nah, he's still pretty out of it, but then again, drugs always do practically knock him out."

Bobby was about to reply with a don't worry, or a just get a coffee, I'm sure he'll be up soon when a low, guttural groan escaped Dean's lips.

Sam's head shot up and he looked up at his brother's face again.

"Dean! Dean, can you hear me, bro? You with me? Can you open your eye?"

Dean did not open his eye, but began to panic, squirming and gagging against the tubing going down his throat.

For a moment he was sure that the demon was torturing him again, forcing things into his airway and he began to thrash as much as he could in his drug induced state. Maybe she was cutting his throat again, torturing him with that blade…Dean began to throw up around the tubing, vomit pooling out of his mouth as he choked violently.

The pain in his throat intensified the more he struggled and he felt fear beginning to constrict his airways further.

He couldn't breathe.

"Woah, chill man. It's just a ventilator, don't panic, I'll call the nurse for you."

Sam was about to press the red button when he saw Bobby coming into the room with a nurse in tow.

He hadn't even realised that the older hunter had left the room to get help; he was far too consumed with fear for his older brother, who was gagging and retching with even more ferocity, flailing in fear.

"Please help! He's choking."

The nurse smiled quickly before leaning over Dean and whispering to him in a soft, gentle voice, explaining what she was about to do.

"Just relax for me sweetheart, don't fight it, good, can you give me a little cough…well done, you're doing well. There, all done, you're going to be fine sweetie. Let me just clean you up a bit…don't struggle honey, I'm not going to hurt you. Ok, all done. I've put a kidney bowl on your bedside table...try to get some sleep now."

Dean didn't look like he was about to sleep any time soon.

In fact, he was sitting bolt upright with his eye wide open in panic.

He looked as if he were about to pass out, or worse, cry.

"Hey man, you ok?" Dean only just seemed to have noted Sam's presence, and when he did he visibly relaxed.

He gave a shaky nod as if to say, 'of course I'm fine, I'm always fine! It's you who's the emotional girl,' but Sam could easily read the fear in his older brother's bright green, overly-expressive eye.

"You're safe Dean." When the sound of the nurse's footsteps faded Sam added, "we sent the bitch back where she belongs. She aint coming back, I've got you."

Sam wrapped an arm around his brother and rubbed the back of his neck as Dean began to cry softly, tears rolling down his face despite Dean's best efforts to contain them.

Bobby took this as his cue to leave, mumbling something about heading home to get their room set up at his place.

He didn't want to impose, and besides, Dean would hopefully be let out of hospital soon and his house was even more of a tip than usual. Yeah, he had a lot of tidying to do!

Well, that and the fact that he knew Dean would be mortified if Bobby saw him showing any sign of weakness.

Sam nodded his thanks to the older hunter and tightened his grip on his brother. He could feel Dean's body shaking against his own with suppressed emotion.

And then, the levee broke. Dean's face visibly crumpled so Sam pulled him into a full-on loose hug, being careful not to knock his older brother's wounds. The one armed support wasn't enough.

Although Sam could no longer see Dean's face, the hitches in his breaths told him all that he needed to know; his brother was desperately trying to hide his fear and pain.

Sam did his best to help Dean relax, humming softly, continuing to rub his neck in small circular motions and whispering that it was all over now, but nothing seemed to help.

It had been years since Dean had cried, really cried. Sure he had done the whole single, perfect tear thing, or cried when the pain became too much, but never full on sobs like this. Not since the day Sam had broken his leg at a playground as a kid when Dean was on watch. He didn't know the whole story, but what he did know was that their dad had fully blamed Dean for the accident and yelled at him.

But generally, Dean was not a rambly-hippy-touchy-feely kina guy.

Truth be told, Sam was completely out of his depth.

Trying to get a grip on himself, and the situation, Sam pulled some old tissues out of his pocket and wiped Dean's face and nose for him.

And then he resumed stroking the back of Dean's head.

He was doing everything he could think of to stop the crying, but it wasn't working.

Dean was always the strong one, the one who was in control and hated showing emotion, or being molly-coddled, but right now he was clinging to Sam like a limpet.

"It's ok man, relax, try to breathe for me, I don't need you to die on me now that we've finally been reunited! Let it all out Dean, it's ok to cry, I don't mind. God, I thought I'd lost you, I was so scared…for a moment I thought, I thought…"

Sam was cut off by a round of his own tears, they came out of nowhere, a combination of fear about what was going to happen to Dean, worry about Dean's voice and eyesight, anger at what the demon had done and relief that his brother was safe and on the road to recovery, even if it was going to be a slow process.

He felt Dean sag against him after a while and wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve before lowering Dean back down onto the bed.

Dean gave him a gentle smile and squeezed Sam's hand as best as he could.

"I won't bring that up ever again if you don't."

Dean nodded as if to say fine, before trying to find a comfortable position.

His back was still tender, his chest was a myriad of stitches and one arm was broken, so the only way he could lie down without causing unnecessary pain was to curl up on his side. Even though that too was covered in bruises.

Sam could see that Dean had had enough of the chick flick moment, so he decided to give him some personal space.

"I'm gonna grab a coffee, I'll be back in a minute."

There was no reply, be it visual or written.

Dean was already asleep.

…

It was three days later and Dean finally seemed to be getting back to his usual self. He was still incredibly jumpy and his arm hurt like a bitch, but that wasn't stopping him from flirting with anything that moved.

He was winking suggestively at the hot, red-haired nurse and grinning at everyone who came by to ask how their favourite patient was.

Of course, the main reason he was this happy was that he was being discharged that day, in ten minutes to be precise.

Sammy was just filling in the last of the paperwork and he was going to be a free man.

A free man determined to make up for lost time in the eating department. He could have sworn he had lost three stone in that hospital! The gunk they tried to pass off as food…it wasn't edible!

"Hey Dean, you got the all clear, you ready to head out?"

Dean nodded and swung his legs out of bed, grabbing his duffel.

"Good, I'm glad we can get back to normal, well, normal for us. I just mean, uh..y'know, I really missed having you around when you were gone, I'm so glad that you're ok. We're gonna sort all this out, I'm here for you."

Dean rolled his eye behind his sunglasses and grabbed his notepad and pen from his jeans pocket.

'Awwwww shucks, I missed you too man, can we slow dance? No, I'll tell you what; just hold me Sam, that was beautiful.'

"Jerk."

'Bitch!'

Dean gave a mock offended look before heading out of his hospital room.

He was still desperately trying to find his voice, but to no avail. The words still wouldn't form, but he hoped that with time at home – well, a crappy motel – he would get better.

Miracles do happen, on occasion.

For the first time in weeks he was grinning, a grin which intensified when the red-headed nurse slipped him a piece of paper with her telephone number, name – Cherry, and a cute drawing of her namesake coloured in with red and pink pens…cute.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, but didn't comment.

Well, not until Dean started to kiss said nurse, pressing her up against the corridor wall as she giggled.

"Ugh, save it for the bedroom Dean."

They headed out to the Impala with a spring in their step.

Well, that was until an old woman bumbled straight into Dean, knocking them both flying.

"Watch where you're going young man. Youth these days, thinking they can rule the roost, bumbling around like nobody's business and not caring about who they hurt on the way."

Dean glanced up at Sam, who bit back a smirk and informed the woman to get the hell out of his brother's face because a, she has walked into him, b, Dean was injured and c, he only had one eye.

The woman scurried away, looking mortified.

"Dude, you just got whaled on by a granny!"

Dean gave him a look that screamed 'shut up bitch!' But he could see the smile in Dean's eye.

Well, at least part of his brother was back to normal.

They both sank into the Impala, Dean riding shotgun because of his arm.

But before they started off, Dean grabbed his phone and carefully typed Sam out a message.

'If you damage Baby, I will kick your ass into next week!'

"I'd like to see you try, shortie."

'Whatever, Gigantor! I could whip your butt any day!"

Sam grinned and briefly considered stalling the car as a joke, but he didn't have the heart to cause Dean any more pain.

Not until he was fully better anyway.

Epilogue

It was two weeks after being released from hospital when Dean sauntered into Bobby's kitchen.

He wasn't surprised to see found Sam already washed and dressed, sitting with his legs crossed on his seat.

His brother always had been an early bird…Dean preferred to get up late and party hard the night before! Well, get drunk out of his mind considering he wasn't on top picking-up-girls form.

Sam looked up when he heard his brother approach and grinned, pointing to a plate of home-cooked waffles.

"Hey dude, didn't think you were ever gonna come out of the cave."

Dean scribbled down a quick note.

'I am Batman after all.'

"In your dreams, jerk."

'Bitch.' Dean gave Sam a mock offended.

"So, you gonna eat your waffles or not?"

Dean gave up pretending to be pissed at Sam, those waffles smelt damn sexy and there were even some pots of sauces laid out for him…strawberry, cherry and…no…yes! Sam had bought him apple sauce!

He had raised his baby brother well!

Dean was in heaven as he took his first bite…and second…an third…using nothing but his fingers.

Fingers came before cutlery after all.

"Dude, you eat like a pig."

'Pigs don't use their fingers…just their mouths. In fact, they don't have fingers, they have trotters…what did they teach you at college?'

"Important stuff, like law."

Sam could see Dean's eyebrow rise from beneath the obligatory pair of sunglasses.

"Man, are you seriously gonna wear those all the time…you look like someone off a cheesy cop show."

Dean's brow rose even further…Sam was sure the hairs would start touching the sky if Dean carried on like that.

"Fine, fine…" Sam stood and gave Dean a soft punch in the arm before spouting out something about research.

Dean sighed and turned back to his waffles, brimming with frustration at his lack of voice.

At that moment in time, he wanted nothing more than to yell at Sam that he hits like a girl…but here he was, stuck being silent.

Dean brooded for another ten minutes before a set of heavy footprints alerted him that Bobby was approaching.

"Morning idjit, or should I say afternoon, lazy ass."

Dean smirked and chucked a piece of waffle at Bobby, who caught it and shoved it in his mouth.

"Chuck us another bit will ya?"

Dean grabbed his notepad.

'Bite me.'

Bobby caught the screwed up ball of paper that Dean chucked at his head and chuckled at the message.

"Don't tempt me boy, I could whip your ass any day."

Dean winced a little at the mention of a whip. Not all of the cuts on his back were made by a knife, after a while, the demon had decided to get creative...to hot things up a bit.

Bobby noticed.

"Shit, sorry kiddo, I didn't mean…"

Dean nodded and stood abruptly, giving Bobby his best attempt of an I'm fine smile before heading out of the door and outside to the Impala.

She could do with another coat of wax, even if he did have to apply it one handed.

"BALLS!"

"What?" Sam hurried back into the room after hearing Bobby curse and a smashing sound.

Bobby had knocked the plate of waffles onto the floor in frustration.

He really needed to learn when to shut his cake hole.

"I screwed up. Big time."

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"I'll talk to him."

Sam pulled Bobby into a gruff hug and mumbled a smart ass comment about Bobby needing to quit taking his frustration out on the crockery before heading outside to find Dean perched on the bonnet of the Impala.

"Dean? You ok?"

Dean gave a short nod and shrugged his shoulders.

I'm fine Sammy, quit fussing like a freakin mother hen.

"Well, I guess if you are fine, there is no point in me heading to the store and buying some pie for dinner. You clearly aren't in need of comfort food"

Dean shot Sam a lop sided grin and was about to jot down a sarcastic retort when he spotted the figure standing a few feet from his little brother.

"SAM! WATCH OUT!" Dean's voice was hoarse after weeks of silence, but it was enough to alert Sam that he was in danger.

Dean's warning came out of nowhere and in a second he had pushed Sam to the floor, out of harms way and was stabbing the demon with Ruby's knife.

The demon crumpled to the ground, landing in a pool of blood.

"Shit! Dean! Are you alright?"

Dean nodded blankly, staring at the bloody knife in his hands for a moment before wiping it clean on the grass beneath his feet and shoving it in his pocket.

Then, he knelt down and helped Sam up, patting him down and scanning him for injuries.

"I'm fine." Dean nodded in relief and began to head into the house again. "Dean!"

Dean turned.

"You spoke! You called out my name…you said something."

A puzzled expression overtook Dean's face before he broke into a grin.

"Oh. Well, I guess your hide needed saving."

Sam laughed at Dean's expression before sprinting over to his brother, pulling him into a hug and whooping with delight.

"God, I – I don't believe…oh Dean! I-"

"Shuddup girly bitch, don't go all chick-flick on me – it should have been you who lost your voice so I don't have to hear your girly whining all day!"

"Yep, you are well and truly back to normal."

Dean gave a theatrical bow and headed inside, Sam close behind.

Bobby came into the hallway to apologize to Dean and froze at the sight before him.

"Shit, what happened? You're covered in blood!"

"I'm fine, a demon was attacking Sam and I saved his scrawny ass."

"A demon! What the hell…WAIT! Dean…you spoke!"

"Thanks genius!"

"But…why now?"

"I dunno, Sam was in trouble so I called out a warning to him and…"

Dean made a non-committal gesture at his body as if to say that he didn't have a clue either before he was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace.

"Jeez, arm…ARM Bobby!"

"Oh, sorry…"

Bobby pulled back, looking worried for a moment before bursting out laughing at the look of shock on Dean's face.

"Get inside you idjits before I make you."

"I'd like to see you try old man."

"Oi, less of the old, Dean!"

Sam smirked and followed Bobby and Dean inside.

They were home now.

And, it looked as if things were as back to normal as they could ever be around the Winchesters.

The End


End file.
